


Country Matters

by gemothy



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: (nearly), Gen, Sex Education, mentions of d'Artagnan/Constance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 21:58:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1202077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemothy/pseuds/gemothy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aramis huffed a sigh, stood up, and clapped D’Artagnan on the shoulder with a friendly smile.</p>
<p>“Come, friend, we were just discussing an important aspect of your pre-musketeer training. It seems it’s fallen upon my incredibly manly yet eminently sensible shoulders to provide instruction in a somewhat delicate matter.”</p>
<p>Or, that one time everyone thought it was a good idea for Aramis to give D'Artagnan The Talk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Country Matters

D’Artagnan was used to his friends already being in the tavern by the time he got there. He was even used to them occasionally talking about him when he arrived. He was considerably less used to those conversations stopping abruptly as he approached their usual table.

Now, he may not have been the most sensible of men, but D’Artagnan was fairly sure something wasn’t right. He frowned, glancing at each of his friends in turn.

“What? What did I do this time?”

The three of them looked at each other in silence for just long enough to make D’Artagnan uncomfortable, before Athos nodded, at which point he and Porthos simultaneously elbowed Aramis in the ribs. He yelped, glaring at them both.

“ _Alright_ ,” he hissed. “But I don’t see why I should be the one to do it.” The other two musketeers smirked, but said nothing. It was clear to them, if not D’Artagnan, why he ought to be responsible for this particular lesson. Aramis huffed a sigh, stood up, and clapped D’Artagnan on the shoulder with a friendly smile.

“Come, friend, we were just discussing an important aspect of your pre-musketeer training. It seems it’s fallen upon my incredibly manly yet eminently sensible shoulders to provide instruction in a somewhat delicate matter.” Sensing D’Artagnan’s confusion, he steered the boy towards a smaller table in the corner of the tavern.

“Perhaps somewhere a little more private?”

D’Artagnan hesitated, but nodded. “Sure.” He squeezed through the crowds, Aramis close behind but slightly delayed by a last-minute- and surprisingly successful- attempt to wrestle a bottle of wine away from the others.

“So,” said Aramis once the two of them were seated, “The three of us were wondering…”

“Yeah?”

Aramis leaned a little closer, lowering his voice. “We were wondering whether you’d ever been… alone with a lady.”

“Uh… I gave Constance the rent this morning.”

“No,” said Aramis, rolling his eyes. “ _Alone_ with a lady. Or a gentleman, if that’s your thing.”

D’Artagnan spluttered into his cup.

“ _What?_ ”

“Like I say, we were just wondering. We were a little concerned that you might be a little...  _inexperienced_ , coming from the arse end of nowhere like you do.”

“I’ve definitely done it, if that’s what you mean,” said D’Artagnan, rather more loudly than Aramis would have liked. Aramis shot a despairing look at the others, who both shrugged. Porthos even gave him a thumbs up, the bastard.

“Well, that’s good to know. I think.” Aramis paused for a moment. “The thing is, we’ve noticed that you and Constance have a little romance going on.”

D’Artagnan shook his head. “She’s married.”

“That, my friend, is not the point. The two of you have been giving each other bedroom eyes ever since you arrived in Paris. We were all just worried that you might get yourself into trouble somehow.”

“I know how it all works,” D’Artagnan said. “I grew up in the country, remember?”

“Not that kind of trouble. Just… do you _really_ know what you’re doing? Because Athos and Porthos have suggested that I ought to perhaps give you some lessons in-”

“Um, no,” said D’Artagnan, blushing violently. “Look, Aramis, I’m very flattered- but as you say, I’m more interested in Constance. Sorry.”

Aramis simply stared, unimpressed.

“Lessons in how to woo a lady, D’Artagnan, you bloody fool. I’m hardly about to announce my intentions to seduce you in the middle of a tavern, am I?”

If it were possible to blush any more than he already was, D’Artagnan did so. Ideally, he would have hidden under the table, but Aramis had a tendency to spread himself over as much space as possible and there was no way diving under the table wouldn’t make this worse. Instead, he settled for avoiding eye contact and muttering into his wine.

“Sorry. Again.”

Aramis grinned. “Quite alright. It’s an easy mistake to make- after all, it’s not as if I _wouldn’t_ try to do it.”

“...Really?”

Aramis winked. “Yep.”

"Right. Well. That's..." D'Artagnan craned his neck, looking out of the nearest grubby window for a clock tower. "Goodness, look at the time, I really must go and make sure Constance is alright. Bye!"

And on that rather abrupt note, he fled, leaving half a cup of wine and his best hat behind. Aramis shrugged, draining the cup on his way back to his friends. Things may not have gone quite as well as any of them had hoped, but at least he’d acquired a new hat.

And D’Artagnan would be back soon anyway.

Probably.


End file.
